family
The Mysterious Poinsettia
From the kitchen Irene spoke in a lovingly raised voice. “Lucy, why are you barking?” she asked as her red-haired Pomeranian-Chihuahua continued to bark near the front door. The aroma of Christmas filled the house as Irene baked treats for her friends and family. This was a lifelong tradition for her. She had oatmeal raisin cookies in the oven as she was preparing the baklava and stirring in the rich, dark honey. Baking was one of Irene’s most cherished activities. It reminded her of her mom. She used many of the recipes that were passed down to her and have been in the family for generations.
By Rick Henry Christopher 4 years ago in Fiction
So Close, And Witch Way To Go?
He stood behind the tree, glancing, waiting. Do they smell me? See me? He listened. The sound they made was odd, but somewhat familiar. It had been so long since his own whelps were this young. He peaked again from behind the tree and there they were, playing with some leaves, cooing. He looked a little more, a little less careful and he knew they spotted him, but they smiled, and not in a menacing way. He knew that they couldn't hurt him. He didn't want to hurt them. He was curious. How did this little human whelp end up all alone with no one around in the forest with them?
By Tinka Boudit She/Her4 years ago in Fiction
Fire Breathers: Adventures of the Last Living Dragon
There it was, another day gone. Many quiet winters passed and the cloud-filled sky was still a somber shade of magenta red, quite promising for the coming season’s hunt. But who were we kidding, it wasn’t like there was much left to hunt, and as things were—Muvwar slept much less peacefully tonight. He tossed and turned as Mymrynth’s loud snoring roared over the valleys edge keeping him awake. Teghrom, their only living relative and most trusted advisor slept a few feet away near the cave’s entrance—and by the looks of it, he wasn’t getting much shut-eye either.
By K.H. Obergfoll4 years ago in Fiction
Banoom
Banoom dragged her tail through the fallen leaves on the malt path, the autumn foliage now past peak color, her breath visible in the air above her snout. Cambria woods – especially the malt path – was her favorite place on Yirrth, a retreat from awkward interactions with family ‘friends,’ volunteers, or the Charitable Order of Gnomes. A place to avoid whomever she was appointed to stay with that week.
By D.P. Martin4 years ago in Fiction
Zhane & Vitani Chapter 1
Chapter 1 Summer Ends The final days of summer vacation shrouded the atmosphere of Miami, Florida. The jaded kids in the area were not looking forward to another year of school and mountains of homework. But over on 235 Lomaky Drive, there were two 12-year-old twins clashing for the controller to their Xbox One.
By Kylecovey Smith4 years ago in Fiction
The Worsley Family Locket: Chapter 3 - Arthur and Clarence
It is not possible to explain what occurred next, without speaking about your more senior siblings. How your eldest brother Clarence carried himself, was the epitome of the household’s ever-lasting cruelty and neglect. Aged just 13 when I first encountered him, he lambasted my beggared condition and inferior status with eloquence beyond his years. Irresolutely an intelligent boy, but one who utilised his perceptiveness and quick-thinking with callous intent. A disdainful slug of a whelp, on the very brink of blossoming into a vile moth that was drawn toward opportunities to torture and belittle like flickering candlelight. I was victimised relentlessly by the child, who seemed to claim a wilful disliking to me from the very moment he encountered me. He taunted me for my work, stole my possessions which only rarely returned to me destroyed and even physically struck me when his loathing was made its most bold. The women of the manor he treated with similar disregard. His younger sisters Ida and Helen were positively terrified of him. Yet Lady Ethel, before she came to know the locket with such lamentable affinity, remained smitten. He was, after all, the first child she’d birthed. Regrettably however, those affections had never been mutual. Clarence only behaved with any civility around his father, though even this was demonstrably lacking in sentiment. He had eyes only for his father’s capacity for prosperity and influence, and declared a divine right to a share in his prestige, though to my eyes it was utterly unearned whenever he received it. A dreadful young swine through and through, but one with a certain ruthlessness that had already sniffed the alluring scent of ascendancy; traits that often collude to put a rotten fruit at the forefront of the grocer’s stalls.
By Matthew Curtis4 years ago in Fiction
Village Girl
A fiery heat wave smothered a barren, desolate corner of the sub-Saharan Desert. The militant flames of wind kicked the grains of sand leaping into dancing spirals, before cascading back into the dunes. The scorching sun, a spectator of its fury, stood isolated in the sky and observing nature at the hands of its mercy.
By Hannah Berhe4 years ago in Fiction
